


On The Road

by MagnetoTheMagnificent



Series: Flufftober 2020 [26]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Humanity (Good Omens), Closure, Comfort, Conversations, Crowley Loves Humanity (Good Omens), Crowley Loves the Bentley (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Driving, Guilt, HIV/AIDS Crisis, Other, Queen (Band) References, Queer Guardian Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Queer History, Sad Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent
Summary: Why the Bentley only plays Queen, and why it makes Crowley cry
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) & Freddie Mercury
Series: Flufftober 2020 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952344
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	On The Road

"..... _Nothing really matters…..to me_ ….." 

Crowley sighed weakly as the last notes of _Bohemian Rhapsody_ faded into silence.

The tape popped out and clattered onto the floor. Frowning, he picked it up and slammed it onto the dashboard. 

Aziraphale, who had been sitting in the passenger seat, laid a hand on Crowley's arm. 

"That's quite enough, dear," he said firmly, gripping his wrist. 

Crowley tensed. 

"What?" he hissed, wriggling his arm out of the angel's grasp. 

"Crowley, stop the car," Aziraphale ordered. 

"Huh? Angel, but your book-"

"Sod the book sale, Crowley, just stop the damn car!" 

Confused by Aziraphale's sudden sternness, Crowley obediently pulled the Bentley off to the side of the road. 

He glanced at his partner expectantly.

"Ssso," he said nervously, "what is it?" 

Aziraphale exhaled and put a hand on Crowley's thigh. His snowy brows were furrowed, and his face was creased with worry. 

"Every time you listen to that music of yours," Aziraphale murmured sadly, "you lose yourself. 

"It's not like I can listen to any other music in this infernal vehicle," Crowley replied through gritted teeth. 

"Crowley, it's been two years," Aziraphale sighed.

"Since whe- oh." 

He bit his lip, and looked away. He knew where Aziraphale was going with this. 

"Don't think I don't notice how your most dearest possessions reflect your emotions, Crowley," Aziraphale continued. 

"And I know he was important to you." 

Crowley felt a choked feeling in his throat. 

"He died too young," he muttered, still looking out the window. 

Aziraphale put a hand on his shoulder, silently encouraging him to continue. 

"And it wasn't like it was- like it was- like it was quick, Aziraphale. He was ill for years, he was dying for years." 

"He was my friend," he said quietly. 

"He was my friend, and I was too caught up in trying to save the bloody world that I wasn't there for him." 

He wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. 

"Did we really save the world?" he asked quietly, now looking at Aziraphale. 

"Because it sure seems like it's ending with this terrible epidemic." 

Aziraphale couldn't answer. How many of his own friends had he lost to the disease?

"Pestilence retired- my arse," Crowley growled bitterly. 

"I'm sure they'll get through this," Aziraphale said with forced confidence. 

"They got through influenza, didn't they?" 

"Yeah, but this is different, angel. You know they raked Freddie over the coals before he died, and back then it was just a rumour. Hoo boy, did the media have a holiday when he finally confirmed it," Crowley hissed. 

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Aziraphale said softly. 

"It _aches_ , Aziraphale. Watching the humans with their hopes and dreams, watching them die and fight and lose ….. and we don't even know whose Side to blame," he replied in anguish. 

"Does it really matter which Side? I think we can agree they're one and the same." 

"Ineffably sadistic," Crowley offered. 

"Quite," Aziraphale agreed. 

They both let out a broken sigh. 

"The thing is, Aziraphale, I like Queen. Just lately I can't hear it without thinking of him." 

"I've noticed." 

"Somehow I blame myself."

"It's not your fault he died," Aziraphale told him. 

"It's my fault humans are mortal," Crowley retorted, staring ahead.

Aziraphale couldn't argue with that.

He wrung his hands, thinking. 

"Crowley, long ago you asked if you might have done the right thing," he said carefully. 

"It was a _joke_ , Aziraphale. I know I'm a demon," Crowley retorted.

"Yes, well, think about it, dear. You gave the humans knowledge- you gave them free will. You _made_ them creative." 

"Why, if you really think about it, I doubt Freddie Mercury would have even existed!" he exclaimed. 

"I-" 

"Or anyone! No Sappho, no David, no Al Jazari, Homer, Galileo, Shakespeare, Beethoven, Lovelace, Turing……" 

Aziraphale took Crowley's hand.

"They all existed because of you," he said. 

"But it's my fault evil exists in the first place," Crowley mumbled.

"And the good, Crowley, and the good. Think of all the good you brought into this world." 

Crowley swallowed. 

"You really believe that?" he asked. 

"I do, Crowley," Aziraphale said earnestly. 

"I always have." 

Crowley sniffled, and looked down. 

"We'd better get back on the road if you don't want to miss that estate sale," he muttered, looking at his watch. 

"I want to be sure you're alright," Aziraphale replied. 

"I am. Promise," Crowley insisted. 

He started up the engine. 

"Just don't want you to miss your books on my account." 

Aziraphale smiled fondly. Crowley was always thinking of other people. 

As he steered the Bentley back onto the road, Crowley reached for the tape almost instinctively. Absently, he slid it back into the music player. 

It stayed Bach's _Brandenburg Concerto_ for the rest of the drive.

**Author's Note:**

> The Bentley and the plants are extensions of Crowley's subconscious, even if he doesn't realize it. (I suppose sort of like Horocruxes, if that makes sense).   
> If he's afraid, the plants are afraid.   
> He harbours so much guilt about what happened to Freddie Mercury that the Bentley only played Queen while he was alive, and after he died, until Crowley finally found closure.


End file.
